You May Find Somebody Kind
by Jace22
Summary: Topanga wishes she could be like Angela. TopangaAngela with mentions of CoryShawn


**Fandom**: Boy Meets World  
**Title**: You May Find Somebody Kind to Help and Understand You  
**Summary**: Topanga wishes she could be like Angela.  
**Pairing**: Topanga/Angela  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Boy Meets World or any of it's characters, they're just fun to play with.  
**Notes**: Lyrics used are from the song _Downtown_ by Petula Clark.

You May Find Somebody Kind to Help and Understand You

_When you're alone_

_And life is making you lonely,_

_You can always go_

_Downtown_

"You're kind of taking this hard, aren't you?" Angela asks, digging through Topanga's cabinet, looking for coffee or tea, anything, she said, that wasn't tap water. Topanga's cabinet, surprisingly, is a mess. Topanga's cabinet. As in, no longer Cory's, and it's really weird that such a simple thing should make her think of him, of the heaviness in her heart.

Topanga gives Angela a long, Topangaish look, full of exasperation and, at the same time, compassion for lesser intelligence. It's usually a look saved for one of the Matthew boys, or Shawn, not Angela, but right now she's testing Topanga's patience. It's possible that that's because she hasn't had Cory around to do that for her; she has to find some release for all that pent up frustration. The frustration starts building in the morning when she can't figure out what shoes to wear with her pants, and ends with not being able to give the finger to that asshole who almost knocks her over on the sidewalk on her way home from work.

"Um, yeah, just a little bit." She smiles unkindly at Angela who still hasn't had any luck finding anything to her liking.

There's an awkward silence after that. Angela thinks Topanga should just get over it, and really, who could blame her? It's been almost a year now.

"Girl, you have to get out and do some _shopping_." Angela sighs, finally taking a seat at the tiny kitchen table, across from Topanga.

Topanga's not really sure why Angela emphasizes the word 'shopping', but she likes the way Angela emphasizes words, and she's glad not to be alone, so she doesn't question it.

"I know, I just haven't had the time between work and, well, work. Things are hectic, to say the least."

"So what do you eat?" Angel asks slowly, staring at Topanga.

"There are a million places to eat in New York. I haven't had a problem yet."

"But _Topanga_, everyone knows that it's cheaper _and_ healthier to buy your food and cook it yourself. They have tons of cookbooks with organic food; I know you, you'd love it."

Topanga gives a short nod, and offers a noncommittal hum. She wishes she had some coffee to mull over. Mulling would look good right about now when she's trying hard not to remember when she used to dream about her and Cory and all the amazing dishes she could make for them and their friends at night.

She looks up at Angela again and thinks it might be nice if they could live together and stay up late into the night doing stupid things like reading cookbooks and picking out what they're going to make the next night, going to the store together to pick it up the next day. Angela probably won't stay, though. Topanga wishes she could be like her; free with nothing to hold her back, to tie her down.

Angela looks thin and weightless to Topanga, nothing heavy on her body, in her world.

Topanga remembers wanting to be as thin as Angela, and now she still does, but for different reasons.

"Do you want to go out and do something?" Angela asks finally, her head resting on her hand; she looks bored, and Topanga feels guilty. She remembers a time when she didn't bore everyone, and maybe that's what happens when you're a lawyer: you get boring. But she doesn't want that. She wants the opposite of that so much it hurts.

It's a biting, horrible thought, but she thinks that she probably bored Cory away. Shawn was much more interesting. He always had been. And Topanga hates Shawn in a way she probably shouldn't. Not so much for taking Cory from her now, but for years and years ago when he was always trying to put them back together when they'd fallen apart.

"It would have been easier if I'd just gone to Yale." Topanga says suddenly.

"What?" Angela blinks, and Topanga realizes she didn't answer Angela's question.

"I just—oh never mind. Let's go out. I want to go out." Which is true. Her apartment feels small and cramped like every apartment she's lived in here in New York, but right now it's bothering her. It makes her skin feel tight and itchy like the sweater Cory gave her the Christmas before they split up. If that wasn't a sign of impending doom, what was?

"Look Topanga," Angela says, softening, and it always makes Topanga's insides hurt when Angela says her name that way; since college at least. "I know you're still hurting over this, but it's time to move on. You can't change the past, and you know what? Why would you want to? If you _had_ gone to Yale _we_ wouldn't have been together." Angela gets up and squeezes next to Topanga to share her seat. "And look where you are now. You're a successful business woman, you've got great clothes, and an amazing best friend. What more could you ask for?" She bumps their shoulders together.

Topanga smiles, she really does have an amazing best friend. Who else would let her get drunk and sing _End of the World_ and _Downtown_ and other old songs that make her want to cry and laugh and sing and not think about _Cory_ or _Shawn_.

"I'm glad you're back. I wouldn't have stopped you, but I'm glad you decided not to live in Europe forever." Topanga says. Sometimes she looks at Angela and feels jealous because even though she when she came back she wasn't a whole new person after living in Europe, she was different: upgraded, shinier.

"You look glittery." Topanga had said when Angela first showed up at her door, and Angela had laughed like it was a joke and not some completely weird, random thing that had managed to slip past Topanga's careful tongue.

"So let's go out." Angela says. "You know all the hot spots." Which is a lie, since even though Topanga's been leaving here longer than she has, Angela still knows New York better than she does.

Topanga giggles, anticipating dancing and heat and Cosmopolitans. "Okay."

X 

_When you've got worries,_

_All the noise and the hurry_

_Seems to help, I know_

_Downtown_

They run down the streets of New York, hand in hand, pulling each other along, because Topanga said it would be fun to do that like they do in the movies. She definitely feels freer than she has in a long time.  
"I think, maybe, I like the city so much because there's so much noise and stuff to focus on that all my problems fade away for a minute." Topanga says, shouting and laughing because she's a little drunk. She loves these times, when she's drunk, but not too drunk, and she feels confident because she didn't have to pay for any drinks. "Guys still find me attractive!" She had cheered, grinning at Angela, who was ducking her head, trying not to laugh because Topanga was louder than she meant to be.

"Oh yeah, totally, I know exactly what you mean. New York is great even though the prices are outrageous. I can't imagine living here forever, though."

"I feel the same way. I think I want to live in the suburbs later, but it's so fun to be young here."

"Young," Angela laughs, "Are we still young? Sometimes I forget. I feel like I'm getting old and I'm not even twenty-four."

"Yeah," Topanga whispers, feeling a pang in her chest. Once, she was a kid, and now one day she'll start having them.

"It might be sorta cool to raise kids here in New York."

"I know, but I was thinking I'd raise mine the suburbs, so then when they're older they can find the city like we did." Topanga says.

"I guess that sounds nice." Angela replies softly.

There are people around, walking fast, walking slow, walking alone and in groups, but all Topanga sees is Angela. Topanga's world stops for a moment along with everything else.

Topanga kisses Angela fiercely, her insides burning from a mixed drink of feelings. Angela's wrist is smooth in her hands, her skin is as soft as it looks, and Topanga wonders if maybe this is how Cory feels when he kisses Shawn. Maybe he enjoys kissing someone who feels a little bit like himself, with rough edges and stubble and lips that aren't slick from gloss.

Angela whispers something against her lips that may or not be "Topanga", but it doesn't matter because she doesn't pull away.

X 

_And you may find somebody kind to help and understand you_

_Someone who is just like you and needs a gentle hand to guide them along…_

_Downtown_

Somewhere along the course of her life, Topanga lost whatever it was that was driving her forward. Suddenly that thing, that force, that motivation, was gone. After awhile it became about what she _had_ to do, not what she _wanted_ to do or loved to do. Working was all about earning money for herself and Cory, for apartments in the city, for the next meal, for clothing and furniture and toiletries.

Somewhere along the way she realized that Cory wasn't her one and only, and that was a little bit like someone realizing that there was no God. It shook her to the core, it rocked her world and turned everything upside down. When she realized that, she felt like she'd survived a hurricane, survived the worst, but somehow she's never fully recovered. Topanga hadn't even realized that she wasn't fully recovered until now when she's mapping Angela's body with her hands in a way that many men like Shawn probably have, but not nearly as many woman.

Angela doesn't say, "It's always been you, Topanga." Because it hasn't, but it is now, and Topanga's come to realize that it's not about what's always been there, because Cory was always there, and now he's not. It's about what comes to you during your life, it's about getting what you need. It's about now.

In the morning when Topanga gets up to try to find some coffee in her messy cabinet to make for Angela, her apartment doesn't feel so small. She smiles, feeling as though her whole world has expanded.

End


End file.
